


Her Name

by Fallen_Seraphina



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Post DotO, Reminiscing, Talking, Winter, a lot of just talking, background building, just a lot of fluff, mentions of past love, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 13:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12482332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen_Seraphina/pseuds/Fallen_Seraphina
Summary: Human now, the Outsider can't help but reminisce about the past. He thinks back on a woman he had marked centuries ago, long dead but never forgotten.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After not playing the game for ~3 years, I recently got back into playing them.  
> And while playing it, I realized how much I would have loved a prequel of the games. 
> 
> This was mostly just to let my mind unwind and write something a bit emotional concerning the Outsider's possible past.

“What are you doing _now?”_ His voice echoed, shifting behind the young woman to peer down at the sketch book in her hands.

She quickly clamped the book to her chest, turning and giving him a small smirk. Her grey eyes narrowed, “That’s rude.” She teased. “It’s just a quick sketch.”

He hummed, standing straight again. He dispersed, reappearing in front of her. “But of _what?”_ He prompted.

She smiled, features softening as she lowered her sketch book. She shrugged, “This place is never the same when I come here. I wanted to draw it, so I can remember.” She replied.

He stared at her for a moment, a smile threatening to spread across his face. He kept himself neutral, though. He shifted away, taking slow strides to her side. “Sentimental.” He tsked, head tilting.

She snorted, rolling her eyes as she brought her pen back down to the paper. She began scratching away, eyes darting from her paper to the scenery around them. After a long silence, she began to hum a light tune. He’d heard her sing it before- it held some kind of familiarity to him, but he could not place it beyond the woman humming it.

Slowly, quietly, he came to stand beside her, peering down at the paper- a grand, spiraling staircase sat atop an island, seemingly frozen in time as she scratched the rough lines of the Void. She glanced at him as he lowered himself to a sitting position beside her, but said nothing. She didn’t move her sketch book away. She smiled and turned her attention back to the land before her, a small smile on her lips.

Neither spoke for a long time. They sat in complete silence as she drew page after page, occasionally standing to find a new landscape to capture with her pen. He watched curiously, all the while she hummed.

They now stood atop the staircase she was drawing only moments ago, head lifted to catch a glimpse of the drifting islands of moments frozen in time. Here, she decided to speak. Her humming ceased, head lowering to stare at her book.

After a short moment, she tilted her head and grinned at the black-eyed man with amusement in her eyes. “... Do you think I could sketch a whale?”

He fought back the urge to smile, nearly snorting at her question.

This woman was truly incredulous. 

* * *

 

“Can I draw you?”

The question came weeks later, uttered as soon as she’d awoken abruptly in the Void. She was smiling, pen and book clutched in one hand. Her dark, green eyes stared at him expectantly, waiting patiently for a reply.

He knew the question would be asked eventually. He’d seen it swarming her mind, always bubbling to the top as she sketched new landscapes and sceneries inside and outside the Void. He’d hoped it was a simple, fleeting thought at first- he’d never thought anyone would want to etch him away permanently into a book.

He hummed, running his hands together. He tilted his head in thought, “I don’t see why not.” He said finally, black eyes sliding down to her book.

Her eyes immediately brightened, grin widening. “Great! Stay where you are!” She said, quickly flicking to a clean page in her sketch book. She twirled her pen, settling down on the ground.  

He stared down at her, trying to feign neutrality. As she looks back at him, though, he can tell it’s not working. She raises a brow, smile faltering slightly. “What? I didn’t say act like statue- it’s no fun to draw someone so stiff.”

He blinked, black eyes staring at her in thought. He slowly angled himself, still fiddling with his hands. He relaxed, staring at her in slight annoyance, “Better?” He asked, a tinge of snark to his tone.

She smirked, rolling her eyes. “Yes, it is.” She studied him for a moment, hand moving slowly across the paper as she scratched the most basic outline. She’d make quick glances down at her paper, but her eyes were fixed on him for the most part.

They both were silent; she hadn’t even begun to hum. The God found it easy to stay completely still, letting her etch in every detail she could. Her dark green eyes fixed on him, the black-eyed man couldn’t help but find it unnerving. It felt almost like she was staring straight into him, like she could see everything he was. He found himself staring back, eyes fixed on the calculated strokes of her pen.

As unnerving as it was, though, it brought a strange warmness to his fingertips. It was new for him. She had a small smile, eyes darting from her paper then back to staring intently at every feature she could find. She drew carefully, but also roughly. She was calculated in her strokes, yet sporadic at the same time. It was strange and _fascinating_ to be on the other side of one of her drawings.

It reminded him so much of why he Marked her in the first place. 

* * *

 

“And what happened to her?” A gruff, low voice asked. The Outsider hummed, lifting one of his hands and entangling it with the other man’s. He had his head resting on his chest, listening intently to the steady heartbeat.

“Another one of my Marked.” He said, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “He grew jealous of my favouritism and concluded the only way to earn it was to kill her.” He shuddered a breath, “In the end, he grew angrier at my continued silence. He began protesting, preaching of my wickedness.”

Corvo let out a soft hum, prompting him to continue. He took a moment, collecting the thoughts and memories from so long ago. “A young boy heard his preaching and latched onto the ideas of my evil doings.” He heard the man snort at that and he himself smiled, although bitterly. “... The boy who heard his preachings eventually became the first High Overseer.”

He felt muscles tense under him, followed by a hand reassuringly brushing against his hip. He reveled in the touch for a moment, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. The Outsider sat up slightly, hands on either side of the other. “It's nothing to reminisce about, Corvo. I’ve had centuries to think on her.”   

The man hummed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Did you love her?” He asked, dark eyes staring up into icy green ones.

His brows furrowed, staring down at him with mild confusion. He mulled the question over, head tilting slightly as he let out a slow breath. “... Yes.” He said finally, “I think to some degree I did love her.” He brought his face closer now, just inches from Corvo’s lips. “Does it irk you? That I was overtly fond with another of my Marked?” He inquired, half joking. 

Corvo scoffed, planting a soft kiss to the former God’s lips. He offered him as small smile as he pulled away, dark eyes looking at him, unwavering. “No.” He replied simply.

He huffed out a short laugh at the man’s typical one-word answer. He rested his forehead on his chest, wrapping his own arms around the larger man’s waist. He took a deep breath, slipping his eyes closed. “Before her, I hadn’t thought of ever being close with one of my Marked. And after her, I feared ever choosing a favourite again.” He whispered as an afterthought.

“What was her name?” Corvo replied. He pulled the small man flush against him, rolling them onto their sides.

The Outsider breathed a small laugh, tightening his grip around the larger man. He settled his body against Corvo’s, pressing into his chest and taking a deep breath. “Angelina.” He said, voice barely even a whisper. “Her name was Angelina Ludgate.”


	2. White Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, one little thing someone says will reminds him of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A winter holiday addition to this little one-shot I had of the Outsider reminiscing about a formerly Marked woman!  
> I don't celebrate Christmas, so its not Christmas-centric or even holiday-related. More of just winter themed, to be honest.

It began snowing one early morning in Dunwall. 

He was expecting it- the snow fell just about every year. It was nearing the end, the days turning to colder and just a month away from the Fugue Feast. The snow was bound to come eventually, albeit a little late. It fell slowly and gentle-like- it was unlike the rains from earlier months. 

He spent the morning lazily watching the snowfall from the window, even long after Corvo pressed a kiss to his forehead and left to attend to his duties. He laid curled up under soft blankets, content to not move for most of the day. Staring at the snow, everything seemed to simply be quieter. It was a peaceful sensation. 

The feeling was not to last longer than the morning, however. A knock on the door guaranteed that. He slowly sat up, hands moving to grip the blankets in an effort to keep himself warmer. “Yes?” He called. 

The door creaked open just enough for the servant to slip in, bowing quickly. “I apologize disturbing your morning, my Lord, but the Empress requests your presence in the gardens.” She said, eyes fixed downwards. 

He huffed out a sigh, letting the blankets slide from his shoulders. “Thank you, Eliza.” He said softly. She nodded and bowed once again, turning and hurrying out of the room. It’d been months, and the servants still had barely warmed up to him. He blamed Corvo for it, mostly. The man had a habit of being overly intimidating, even when he didn’t mean to. 

He climbed out of the bed with a groan, stumbling to the washroom in only a loose shirt. The sun was now above the horizon, making the snow outside the windows gleam and sparkle. The hard, tiled floor was cold to walk on as he entered, groaning softly at his own bedhead. He stared into the mirror for a moment, fixating on his eyes. He’d never get used to seeing the icy green irises staring back at him. 

He huffed, taking his eyes away from the mirror to grab the brush. He needed to get dressed- he was, apparently, needed in the gardens on this cold day. 

* * *

 

She was waiting just outside the garden doors, hands neatly folded behind her back as she stood in the shelter of the porch, watching the snow slowly fall. Watching her, she looked every part the Empress she was, head high and a clear elegance to her stance and sharp, dark eyes- her father’s eyes. 

Her head turned slightly to see him as he walked out to join her, a sly smile spreading across her face. “In an official capacity, you are a Royal Advisor, you know.” She said plainly, but there was amusement in her tone. “That usually means being out of bed sooner than eight.” 

He let a small smirk play onto his features as well, standing beside her with ease. “Forgive me, Empress, if I find the notion difficult- especially on such a cold day.” He said, mock sorrow in his voice. She let out a small, indignant noise of amusement. “Besides reprimanding me for my tardiness, was there a reason you called me here?” He asked. 

She hummed, mulling over something for a moment before reaching one gloved hand to wrap around his arm. “Walk with me.” She practically whispered. He complied, easily being lead towards the maze-like hedges of the garden. 

They moved silently through the garden, towards the center gazebo that stood proudly at the middle of it all. He knew this place was a newer addition to the palace, an add-on to the existing gardens at the demands of a fourteen-year-old Empress. It was more plain compared to the more luxurious flora, but still beautiful with the soft layer of snow covering everything. 

“... Have you ever seen snow before?” She asked after a moment, eyes staring forward as they walked. 

He looked at her for a moment, thinking the question through. He looks onward as well, taking a slow breath. He can see it in the air in front of him, a plume of hot air in the cold winter. “I’ve seen snow before, whenever I looked at your world in the Void.” He said, and he could tell Emily immediately didn’t like that answer. “But…” He continued, “I’ve never experienced the snow- not like this. I’ve never felt the cold, or lied in a bed for hours simply watching the snowfall. It’s… much different than simply seeing it.” 

She smiles, a small crinkle going to the corner of her eyes as she does. She pauses just beside the gazebo, humming lightly. “That’s an interesting way of answering, I guess.” She said fondly, eyes soft yet still so sharp. “I think winter may be my favourite season- or at least, I enjoy the snowfall.” She continued. 

He hums, eyes fixating as the snow began to stop falling. Everything gleamed like crystals in the winter sun as it continued to peek through the remaining clouds over head. Emily’s words bring him a sense of familiarity and a smile tugs at his usually neutral demeanor. 

His mind wanders in the comforting silence that follows her words, as they move to sit inside the gazebo. She sits across from him, watching him as he stares distantly at the hedges and winter flowers. He can remember another time, when someone had told him her exact words. He remembers it as clear as the day, with dark green eyes shining at him in wonder.

* * *

 

“I think, of all the seasons, winter’s my favourite.” She said absentmindedly one day, cleaning up an old sketched-out garden in her book. She looked up at him and grinned, eyes alight with curiosity. “I like watching the snowfall, at least. Do you?” 

He stared at her, perched above on another piece of floating rock. He hummed, mulling the question over for a moment before answering. “The snowfall is… boring.” He said finally, in all his eloquence. “It falls every year, and is almost never different. No matter how much a man insists that every flake of snow is different, it all melts and becomes even less intriguing.” 

She stared at him, eyes blinking in confusion, then shifting into amusement once again. She snorted, shaking her head at him. He frowned, arms crossing at her reaction. She fell into a fit of giggles, pressing her sketch book to her chest as she tried to speak. 

“I’m sorry- you just- I’ve never heard something put it that way!” She finally got out, letting out a happy sigh. “Oh, I guess you being a God and all, you’d think a lot of that stuff is boring!” He furrowed his brows, but said nothing. 

She cleared her throat, smiling up at him in utter joy and amusement. “Don’t you find it  _ fascinating _ , though?” She insisted, “It’s always different!” She makes a shushing sound as he tries to cut in, “I don’t mean the snowflakes- I mean the  _ snowfall. _ Weather is something completely out of human control. There could be a blizzard one day, killing off hundreds of people. The snowfall can be so violent, sometimes.”

“But, then, the very next day there’s this… Silence, you know? It’s like the snow just takes away all of the sound. Everything’s covered in white, and looks completely peaceful… yet, we know it wasn’t just moments ago. It's a really fascinating thing to experience. It reminds me a bit of the Void, actually.” She muses, lightly gesturing to around them. 

He hummed, glancing around at the Void around them- hues of purple and blue mixing with the blackened islands of rock and slaughtered Leviathans. If the snow was anything like the Void, he doubted he would like it.

“... Maybe that’s why you don’t like it.” She said, voicing his own thoughts just as he thought them. His black eyes snapped to look at her, marginally wide compared to the neutral look he tried hard to maintain. 

Her eyes still shone with unyielding curiosity, but there was a twinkle of something akin to melancholy there, now. She was watching him, pen and book resting in her lap. He slowly looked away from her, turning his attention to the Void once again. “... Maybe.” He said shortly, shifting to face away from her. 

She said nothing, moving back to her sketch easily without another word. They stayed there for hours more, neither saying anything more than a short remark of observation. It was silent, the sheer noise of the Void the only thing in their ears. It was a simple day, and a simple memory.

* * *

 

“Hello?” Emily’s voice snapped him out of his stupor, eyes blinking to look back at her. She was smiling, but there was worry in her eyes. “Is everything okay? You just sort of zoned out for a moment.” She asked, a hand moving to clasp his shoulder. 

He hummed, resting on one of his hands. “Everything’s fine, Your Highness.” He said, earning an indignant snort from the Empress.  She leaned forward, a stray hair moving into her eyes as it fell away from the neat bun atop her head. She was looking at him with a sharp, worried stare still. 

He leaned back against the wooden wall of the gazebo, lifting his head to look at the ceiling above them. The winter sun was now fully out, the clouds long dissipated now. He smiled softly- a simple thing, really. “I think…” He said after a moment, “Winter may be my favourite season, too.” 

She smile, letting out a soft, breathy chuckle. Her eyes crinkled, the glimmer of amusement returning. He lowers his head, looking back at her in equal wonder, though there was a melancholy shine to his eyes as well. 

They both look out towards the palace as they hear someone call Emily’s name. She sighs, sliding her hands to her sides and lifting herself off the bench. “I guess it’s time to get back to it…” 

He nodded in agreement, standing and offering his arm once again to the Empress. She rolled her eyes, snorting softly. She did take his arm, however, as they began their stroll back to the palace. It was a nice moment, but it wasn’t something they would ever dwell on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Facts:   
> 1\. The chapter title is, yes, another reference to White Winter Hymnal.  
> 2\. I like to think the Outsider's name is Michael, but I might never actually use him name in a story.   
> 3\. I'm shit at remembering the thirteen months in Dishonored.   
> 4\. I actually really hate winter, since I have extreme problems with maintaining my body heat, and thus its very easy for me to potentially fall into a coma or even die in cold weather.   
> 5\. Emily doesn't actually know anything about Angelina.   
> 6\. Corvo has mentioned to Emily, in passing, that the Outsider has loved before but won't elaborate.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Facts:  
> 1\. Before anything else, I came up with the name Angelina. Her last name would be Ludgate and that's from a customer name I saw a work once.  
> 2\. I actually have a hard time writing the Outsider.  
> 3\. I like to think the Outsider's name is Michael, completely because of the song White Winter Hymnal by Fleet Foxes.  
> 4\. Similarly, the song Angelina's humming in the story is White Winter Hymnal.  
> 5\. I can't decide who I ship with Corvo more- Daud or the Outsider.  
> 6\. The Outsider Marked Angelina around~ 1637, roughly 200 years before the Dishonored games take place.  
> 7\. The young boy the Outsider mentions is indeed Benjamin Holger, who is presumed to be the first High Overseer and was stabbed in the eye in 1708 during the Siege of Whitecliff.  
> 8\. Angelina was 19 when she was marked.   
> 9\. Angelina died in 1641. She was 23 years old.


End file.
